


Sink With Me

by crowdedmasks (emptymasks)



Category: Tanz der Vampire - Steinman/Kunze
Genre: Bisexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Panic, Bisexuality, Clothed Sex, Come Eating, First Meetings, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Manhandling, Polyamorous Character, Praise Kink, Seduction, Smut, Vampires, Voice Kink, Wall Sex, aka krolock, also possible alfred, krolock is bi and alfred is realising that he's bi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23860768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptymasks/pseuds/crowdedmasks
Summary: "Unlock the shackles you're binding yourself with," The Count's hands where on his face, his neck. And though were ice cold Alfred felt like they were burning right through his skin and pulling at his veins. "If you love this life, let your love be life," One of his hand's brush back Alfred's hair, tangling with the locks and tugged. "And free yourself."
Relationships: Alfred/Graf von Krolock (Tanz der Vampire)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Sink With Me

"Alfred, would you wait a moment?"

The cold, deep voice bounced off the equally cold stone walls surrounding them. The candles littering the walls did little to provide any real heat and Alfred wondered how the Count coped with it... though he supposed, if he and the Professor were correct in assuming the Count and his son where vampires, did the dead ever feel cold? When the Count's son Herbert had lead him into the castle, he could feel how cold his fingers were as they dug into Alfred's coat, and he'd been wearing gloves!

 _If_ they were right, _if_. When had the Professor been wrong? Well, alright, sometimes he'd been overzealous in their attempts to find vampires before and jumped to accusations when it turned out the pale, sunken faces simply belong to quite sickly people, but other than that time he hadn't been wrong... Well... there hadn't exactly been any other times where they'd thought they'd found vampires, but this time the evidence seemed undeniable! A mysterious castle deep in the middle of the woods that everyone in the village was scared off and pretended didn't exist, while they wore strings of garlic around their necks like crucifixes. He really couldn't blame Sarah's addiction to bathing when that smell clung onto everything that touched it. Alfred's stomach lurched as he realised the only garlic they'd brought with them, oh god all of the supplies they'd brought with them, where in the Professor's bag.

He searched for the Professor's eyes, hoping to silently convey that he didn't want to be left alone with the Count. But the Professor was already walking off, being lead deeper into the castle by the strange servant, simply waving his hand in the air back at Alfred. He couldn't leave him alone with this man, this... monster... And how'd spoken to them, it was like he was playing with them, like he knew that they knew he was a vampire and was toying with them. 'I'm a night owl, by day I'm practically useless' he'd said when Professor Ambronsius had apologised for 'visiting' him so late. He bloody well knew what that meant! The implications it had if one knew what he truly was.

Count von Krolock wasn't exactly what Alfred had imaged when he'd thought of vampires. Tall, yes. Long, sharp, claw-like fingernails, yes. Dull skin, yes. But he imagine they'd look less... human. Perhaps their joints looked more gnarled, perhaps their ears would be pointed, perhaps not just their fangs but all their teeth where sharp, like that of a shark. And he'd watched the Count as he'd spoken and he hadn't seen any fangs at all. Though if he could control them, cause them to grow out and shrink back in, that would be fascinating... and terrible... If all vampires looked like this, then Alfred now understood why so many people had let themselves get close enough to be bitten by one...

No! No he didn't. What was wrong with him, this was a _vampire_ and a male one at that! Alfred didn't... he couldn't be thinking those sorts of things, no matter if he'd...No, no! He was here for Sarah. He had to focus on that. He shouldn't be fascinated by this vampire, he should just follow the Professor to the room they'd be staying in... Alfred tried not to shiver as he thought about falling asleep in a place like this.

But the Count voice had sounded so gentle as he'd just spoken. Something in it made Alfred feel compelled to do as he'd asked.

The deep red rug moved against the stone floor as Alfred shuffled his feet, fighting the urge to turn around.

"I think perhaps you dropped something?" Alfred jumped as the Count's voice was suddenly right in his ear. He turned, sharply, and saw the Count was close enough to have been brushing against his back. How had he not noticed? How had he not heard him approaching?! In his shock Alfred tried to take a step backwards before he'd fully finished turning around and the rug caught underneath his boots and slipped against the stone and Alfred realised he was going to fall and he was just going to let it happened because he'd be dammed if he was going to cling onto this _vampire_ to save himself the embarrassment.

He found he hadn't ended up with much choice in the matter.

There was a hand on his back. A hand that felt like it was sucking the heat out of him and yet somehow at the same time Alfred could feel his face heating up so that didn't make any sense.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you," The Count said, earnestness laced in his voice but Alfred could see the smug gleam in his eyes.

"It's-" Alfred cut himself off with a cough as he realised how high-pitched his voice had suddenly gone. "It's alright, I just, I uh..." He trailed off and he righted himself again and found himself close, far too close to the Count's chest and neck and face and oh god.

Alfred tried to calm himself down, the flushing in his cheeks was _purely_ from the embarrassment of falling over and _not_ from anything _or anyone_ else thank you very much. He focused on evening out his breathing and sort of... well everything seemed to calm down a bit and he found that he couldn't really think to hard about what he'd been thinking about before he fell and the Count's eyes were really actually sort of pretty if you looked at them long enough...

A pair of bony fingers brushed against his cheeks, the nails sharp enough to tear through his skin, but gentle and careful not to. "Are you feeling quite alright, Alfred?"

Hearing the Count's voice, soothing as it was, managed to snap Alfred out of whatever daze he'd been going into and he was grateful the Count's arm moved off his back as he stepped backwards and wait had his hand still been on his back this whole time?!

"I'm- I'm fine, thank you," _Don't thank him!_ "I feel fine."

"Are you sure?" The Count's hand moved and Alfred was not ready for him to be touching him again and moved a step further back. "Only, your face is quite flushed."

The fiend! He, he _knew_ , he fuc- He _bloody well_ _knew_ that Alfred wasn't sick! If he was flushed it was because the Count had been standing so close to him and touching him! Wait. No it wasn't!

"I'm sure," Alfred's got his voice back down to its usual pitch. "You, um... You said I'd dropped something?" He was frankly astonished he'd managed to remember to remember what the Count had asked him what seemed like an eternity ago but in reality had been about three minutes ago.

"Ah, yes," The Count drew out the words in an almost moan and Alfred bit the inside of his cheek for reasons he wasn't ready to deal with. "I believe this belongs to you."

From beneath his long, heavy cloak, Count von Krolock drew out his arm in a graceful line, holding up the sponge Sarah had given to Alfred as if it was some dramatic offering.

"My sponge!" Alfred gasped out, memories of Sarah filling his head. How angelic her voice had been as she lost herself in song as she bathed, how beautiful she'd looked when their eyes had met as they'd both reached for the sponge the Count now held in his hand... how kind she'd been to him...

Alfred was drawn once more to get closer to the Count, but it was simply to get the sponge back. As he reached out for it, the Count didn't lessen his grip, as if purposely taking the chance of their hands brushing even more likely, and then as Alfred's fingers indeed brush against the Count's cold hands, the Count drew his hand back.

"You know, Alfred," He paced down the room, cloak billowing out, the deep purple-red lining catching Alfred's eye. It was the only bit of colour that the Count wore. "Seeing you stand behind your dear Professor like that, waiting to be introduced, waiting to be told to come along and follow like a dog by that senile, old fool... It saddens me."

He turned to look Alfred in the eyes as his voice changed into something sharp. "I... I don't follow."

"I see the potential in you, Alfred. I see what he does not. I do respect him, I do, of course, for following his passions and learning about fascinated him, whatever the cost... But what fascinated him... Is that the same as what fascinates you?"

Alfred was suddenly hyper aware of how it was just the two of them alone in the room, for all he knew alone in this entire wing of the castle. He had no idea how large the place actually was, he had no idea how far away from him the Professor was... And part of him felt... glad? He... He felt like he wanted to keep listening, like he didn't want to the Professor to walk in on them right now... What a strange feeling. It wasn't as if the two of them were doing anything he should be ashamed of or embarrassed by... And yet it all felt very intimate. He felt like this was the most intimate he'd ever been with someone, like he was being laid open, bare, and they were on opposite sides of the room.

"He doesn't understand you, Alfred. But _I_ do," The Count cradled the sponge and turned away and Alfred thought he heard the intake of breath... Could he smell Sarah's scent on it...? Could he smell both their scents on it? "I can feel it, that spark inside of you. I can feel your longing. I can help you explore it, learn what it means. I could lead you."

He stretched out his arm, holding the sponge out to Alfred once again, and like a moth to a flame, Alfred walked forward. This time, Alfred crept his hand down, making sure their hands wouldn't brush, both scared and fascinated at what would happened if they did... It was like the Count could see into his very soul. His fingers made contact with the sponge and the Count's hand opened like a flower, showing Alfred that he was free to take it back.

There, he had it back, he could leave now. Dropping the sponge was why the Count had called him back and now he could leave and return to the Professor...

But his feet weren't moving. He couldn't make them move.

"Trust me, Alfred. Where I rule, in the dreamland of night, all things are made possible by me. Any wish you have, name it me, and I can make it come true," The Count continued to speak as he walked around Alfred, circling him, and coming to a stop a few feet before him.

"Sink with me into the sea of time. Let me teach you what it truly means to live," His hands moved to his sides, his palms upturned as if he was inviting Alfred into his embrace. Alfred could feel himself relaxing as the Count spoke, his words were a superfluous lullaby rocking him, cradling him, twisting and coiling themselves around his ankles.

"Let yourself feel the bliss of sorrow," The Count took a step, now just a couple feet away.

"Feel the pleasure of surrendering," Another step. One foot away. Close enough for him to touch Alfred.

And oh did Alfred find himself wishing he would touch him.

"Search with me for that dark holy grail," The Count's hand reached out and Alfred followed its movement with dazed, half-lidded eyes. "Let me teach you what it means to love."

Alfred felt dizzy. The Count seemed to be coming closer and closer even though they were as close as they could possibly be. Alfred felt cold stone against his back and didn't know if he'd been backed up into one of the stone pillars or against one of the walls. He hadn't thought he'd been close to any of them, but he couldn't say how long he'd been walking backwards for. He couldn't get his bearings. He tried to look past the Count, but the high collar on his cloak and his long hair the spilled over it seemed to cover all sides of his peripheral vision.

"Unlock the shackles you're binding yourself with," The Count's hands where on his face, his neck. And though they were ice cold Alfred felt like they were burning right through his skin and pulling at his veins. "If you love this life, let your love _be_ life," One of his hand's brushed back Alfred's hair, tangling with the locks and tugged. "And free yourself."

Alfred knew he was at the tipping point. So many conflicting and new feelings were swarming around in his head, but he knew what he had the urge to do and for once he decided not to over think and worry about anything.

The sponge dropped from his hand and his fingers itched forward, seeking a cold body to calm down the fever he felt like he was breaking into. The fabric of the Count's waistcoat was a rich brocade and his fingers traced the patterns as he grew bolder and his brain grew foggier and his hands dipped lower and burned and pushed themselves under the waistcoat and dug through silk shirt until it became untucked from the Count's trousers and his hands were pressed flat against the Count's stomach.

The Count lurched against him and made a sound somewhere between a hiss and a moan. One of his hands found its way to the small of Alfred's back, exactly where it had been earlier when Alfred had fallen... Alfred found he had no idea how long ago that had been. It had probably been about ten... maybe fifteen minutes but how could they possibly have gone from just meeting each other to... to _this_ in such a short amount of time? The hand on his back pressed upwards but with the rest of the Count's body still pressing him into the wall, it forced his back to arch and he moved up onto his toes. As his body moved upwards, his cheek brushed against the Count's own and his blood went hot as it now meant the Count's head was in the crook of his neck.

This dangerous, this was so very dangerous. His neck should be the last place the vampire's mouth should be anywhere near but even though it scared him, Alfred felt himself lose all resistance.

He felt himself begin to sink.

He heard the Count breathe with a lurch realised he was smelling him. The Professor had said that vampires could not only smell blood, but could smell things within the blood. Probably for something practical like being able to tell if the person you're about to drink from has a disease, but Alfred felt himself wanting, _longing_ , to know what the Count smelled in his blood. Could he smell how Alfred felt? Was that how he knew what Alfred had buried within him?

The Count's other hand went to his hip and tugged him up, tugged him even closer and Alfred had to open his legs to slot alongside the Count's body and the Count's thigh slid between his legs and Alfred suddenly released with a quite moan that he was hard. He was painfully hard.

Some part of him tried to move and pull away, ashamed of his reaction but the Count tightened his grip.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Alfred," The Count's voice was right in his ear and Alfred whimpered. "Let yourself want, let yourself be free of all the voices that said you couldn't have what you wanted."

"But," Alfred gasped out. "But you're... you're a..."

"I'm what? If you're going to say 'monster' then perhaps, but does that mean I'm not worthy of love?" He sounded to genuinely hurt that Alfred didn't know whether it was an act or not. "Or perhaps," The Count pushed him, causing him to fall back onto his heels before grabbing both of Alfred's hips and pulling their bodies together and it took Alfred a moment to realise what he was rubbing against until his hand slipped down and felt the bulge in the front of the Count's tight trousers. "Perhaps, sweet Alfred, you're concerned about me being a man, and while I haven't been certain of that for a long while, I am still male, certainly."

He ground himself down on Alfred and his hand that was now trapped between them. "You think this should bother you? You think this is wrong? Oh, Alfred," Pity dripped from his tongue. "All those rules and ideas that have been put in your head. How can it be wrong? How can love be wrong?"

"You don't love me," Alfred was surprised he could get the words out. "We... We've only just met."

"Oh, I've been watching you ever since you arrived in that pathetic little village, my dear boy," His hand wrapped around Alfred's, encouraging it to untie the fastenings on his trousers.

"You've been watching Sarah too," The hand then moved and pressed again and Alfred took the hint to then also untie his own trousers as well. Why was he still moving and doing this as they spoke?

"Am I allowed to love only one?" It was such a sincere question that Alfred was glad the Count had now lifted his head so he could look in his eyes. It was such a confounding question as well. 'Well, of course', was Alfred's first thought. You were only allowed to marry one person. But then he kept thinking... and well... It wasn't the craziest thing in the world was it? In fact, it felt rather silly to think you could only love one person. If you loved someone and fell out of love and then fell in love with someone else, that's loving more than one person. What's to stop that happening while you're still in love with the first person?

"But that still... You don't."

"I could," The Count purred.

Cold hands plucked Alfred's cock free and his jerked at the coldness of the touch. Their cocks were aligned as the Count ground himself against him once more and Alfred's hand was moving unguided now as he wrapped it around them both.

"Look at what you've done to me, Alfred. I've been so careful, until now. I've been patient, I've not made a move on you or Sarah, and look now," It wasn't said as a command but Alfred felt compelled to look down to where their cocks where touching. It was all getting too much. "I couldn't stop myself, you just looked so... innocent. So beautifully innocent."

Alfred felt his cock twitch and as much as he wanted to hide his face, he felt his head tip back against the hard stone.

"Yes," The Count sounded snake-like as the word caught on a groan. "So beautiful for me, aren't you, Alfred?"

He'd never been called beautiful before. He'd never even been called handsome before. As a boy his mother had said maybe one day he'd grow up into a handsome man but now he was in his twenties and with a face that people had only ever described as 'sweet'. The only other people he’d heard described as ‘sweet’ were all girls.

"Stay here, with me. Not just for tonight. Stay, and you can feel like this always," The Count's lips where at his ear again and Alfred felt himself coming undone. "Just trust me, and love me, and I will serve you. Come undone for me, let me be the first one to bring you this pleasure."

It didn't take long before Alfred's hands where grasping at the Count's cloak, face burning hotter as he realised how they were both still fully clothed. Somehow he found the Count's hard body beneath the fabric and dug his fingers into him and as moaned, unable to hide the sound, as he came, spilling himself over the Count's and his own hand.

He wasn't aware of very much as the aftershocks ran through him but at some point the Count must have finished himself off too because he wasn't moving against him anymore. As he pulled himself back he saw the mess that was over both of their hands, some of it staining the front of Alfred's underwear. He considered it a miracle that none of it was on his trousers.

Though, what happened now? How where they going to...? And was Alfred really just going to walk out of here?

The Count moved back slightly and Alfred watched, transfixed, as he raised his soiled hand to his lips, cleaning it, and as his mouth opened and sucked Alfred saw the fangs now. At some point the Count must have let them out and Alfred hadn't realised. They were longer than he'd imagined. The Count then grabbed Alfred's hand and raised it to his mouth. Alfred couldn't stop the noise he made at the realisation that the Count was going to clean his hand with his mouth too.

He watched as the Count's tongue curled around his fingers and he knew he should be scared. The fangs where so close, so tantalisingly close to his skin and the Count's eyelids fluttered and closed before he suddenly pushed Alfred's hand back into his chest.

"No..." He murmured, seemingly to himself. "Not yet..."

The cold hands were once again on Alfred's face and he could feel the Count's saliva against his skin.

"I'm having a ball a tomorrow. I’d love it if you danced with me," Alfred found himself still staring at his fangs while he spoke, and the Count tipped his head up so he looked him in the eyes.

Alfred didn't trust his voice so he nodded and hoped that would sufficient.

The Count smiled.

"I'll get Koukol to show you to your room," And he walked away to the doorway on the other side of the room, shouting for his servant, as if they hadn't both just...

His brain started to work again and he quickly fastened his trousers back up, racing to get himself looking somewhat presentable before Koukol scuttled into the room. The two stared at Alfred until he took the hint that he should be moving and Koukol beckoned him to follow behind him.

He got one foot out of the doorway, before he felt a chill. "Alfred," And he turned at the voice straight away.

The Count looked down at him and then reached over to straighten his bow-tie.

"Sleep well," He said, and then disappeared into the dark corners of the castle.

**Author's Note:**

> So I should be finishing my Spies are Forever fic and instead I thought about Tanz Der Vampire for two seconds and despite having many Alfred/Herbert WIPs, I ended up writing this. I didn't instead for it to be smut and then I don't know what happened.
> 
> I based the characters off Drew Sarich's Korlock and Anton Zetterholm's Alfred, but tried to keep the physical descriptions vague enough that you can imagine whichever Krolock and Alfred are your favourites.
> 
> Some of the dialogue is based off lines from Vor dem Schloss, in particular the English translations (I don't speak German) by [Ambroisie](https://lyricstranslate.com/en/vor-dem-schloss-front-castle.html)


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